The Holiday

by Jane Green

  ‘What?’ I asked, astounded.

  He looked as mixed up as I felt. ‘Look, right now I wish to God I weren’t your friend, but I am, so as a friend I feel bound to tell you that if it’s Jason DeWittless you want, then don’t let him get away.’

  Had he gone completely insane? He didn’t even like Jason!

  I slid down in my seat, confused. Part of me wanted him to say, Don’t let me get away. But that wasn’t what he was saying. This was why he was so exasperating! He’d kissed me, but he wasn’t declaring undying love. Instead he was telling me to go declare undying love for someone else.

  I was so confused, I needed to be alone, even if it was just for a few minutes. ‘I’ve got to hit the ladies’ before we go,’ I said, fleeing.

  In the dinky bathroom I sank against the wall, trying to gather my wits. How did everything get so confusing all of a sudden? Why couldn’t I think straight? I felt like I was just blundering everywhere, saying the wrong things to people I loved, making errors of judgment right and left.

  When I finally came back out, Isaac was folding up something. ‘Here,’ he said, giving it to me. ‘It’s my Christmas present to you.’

  It was a neatly folded restaurant napkin. ‘You shouldn’t have. Really.’

  ‘It’s a magic Christmas napkin,’ he told me. ‘You have to open it first thing tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Won’t you be over tomorrow?’ I asked.

  ‘I’d like to, but I’m busy.’

  ‘On Christmas?’

  ‘I told you; I’m filling in for my little brother. He got invited to go on a ski trip with the girl of his dreams, so he needed someone to fill in at his stupid temp job at the Valu-Rite drugstore. I’ll be in costume, so no one will be able to tell it’s not him.’

  I frowned. ‘What is it you’ll be doing?’

  ‘I’m going to be the one-hour-photo Santaland Santa.’

  I had to take a moment to absorb this. ‘On Christmas?’

  ‘I guess if you’ve got one-hour photos, it’s never too late.’

  ‘Then I take it back,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You don’t have to bother coming by the house – I’ll come to you.’

  The sight of Isaac in a Santa suit was something I wouldn’t have missed for the world.

  It was eleven by the time Isaac dropped me back home. ‘Don’t forget your magic napkin,’ he said to me as I climbed out of the car.

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘First thing in the morning,’ he reminded me.

  I nodded.

  All the cars, snow-covered mounds in the driveway, were present and accounted for, so it appeared no one had ventured out to midnight mass. Another sign that tradition had just gone out the window this year, I thought dispiritedly.

  Of course, I myself had been too busy dealing with cops, kissing Isaac, and eating greasy burgers to go to mass myself.

  In the house, all the lights were off, except for a dim glow of the oven light coming from the direction of the kitchen. The living room was empty and dark. Ted was not watching QVC (I guess his holiday shopping was finally finished), and there was no sign of Vlad, who I had expected would be bedding down on the Hide-a-Bed tonight.

  On my way upstairs, my dad popped out of his study. ‘Holly.’

  Dad pushed his bifocals down and looked at me seriously. He was holding his Cromwell biography, which he had obviously been holed up reading most of the night.

  ‘Yes?’ I asked, expecting him to give me some explanation, or at least solace, for why his son was having a nervous breakdown, his daughters were flaking out, and our family was breaking up. ‘Was there something you wanted to tell me?’

  ‘Did you find the peppermint stick?’

  I squinted at him. ‘The what?’

  ‘The peppermint stick ice cream,’ he said. ‘Your mother mentioned you were going out to find some. Did you?’

  I had forgotten all about it. It seemed years ago since I’d told Mom that fib. ‘No, I didn’t. Sorry, Dad.’

  He looked crushed, like a little kid almost. Impulsively, I went over and gave him a buss on the cheek. ‘Merry Christmas, Dad.’

  He smiled. ‘Is it Christmas already?’

  ‘Almost.’

  ‘Well! This calls for celebration.’ I grinned expectantly. ‘I think I’ll have another glass of eggnog while I finish my chapter,’ he said, scuttling off to the kitchen.

  I went straight up to my room, pausing briefly in front of the spare bedroom in which I assumed Jason was snoozing. There was no light underneath the door. I was tempted to rap lightly … or, better yet, barge right in and throw myself into his bed.

  Don’t let him get away, the man had said.

  Maybe it was high time that I should slink into my stash of specially purchased lingerie. Isaac was right – I needed to make a move, lay it all on the line. Setting my jaw, I marched to my room and began yanking fine washables out of my suitcase. Then I stepped out of my clothes and slipped into something more comfortable. Except the silky little sheath of a nightie wasn’t exactly what I would call comfy – at least not in this energy conservation-minded house where the thermostat was always bumped down at night to the Jimmy Carter-recommended fifty-eight degrees. The house felt like the North Pole. A laggard seductress I might be, but even I knew that gooseflesh and chattering teeth were not sexy.

  I squeezed past my father’s exercise bike to get to the closet. On a hook hung the only robe available to me, a leftover from college. I’m surprised it hadn’t landed in the Goodwill box; it was worn thin and had a coffee stain trailing down one side. I loved it. It was blue chenille with appliqués of Oreo cookies and glasses of milk all over it. Not sexy. What was cute for staying up late in the dorm to watch Love Connection reruns didn’t particularly vamp well.

  I was trying to decide between goosebumps and chunky chenille robe when laughter from outside distracted me. It was undoubtedly my sister’s high, bright laughter, and I drifted over to the window seat to see what she was up to out there. To spy.

  Maddie must have been feeling better. Either that or she had truly gone manic. Peering into the backyard, I saw that she was building a snowman. The first two huge balls of snow had been stacked together to form its torso. I was tempted to run out and join the fun, until I caught a glimpse of someone else out there with her.

  So that’s where Vlad was, I thought, grinning.

  A streak of white crossed my line of vision, followed by a Maddie squeal. Then laughter. A playful snowball fight, which would probably lead to some backyard cavorting in the snow. I leaned back, wrapping the warm flannel around me more tightly.

  Maddie had picked up Vlad spur of the moment and was now frolicking in the snow with him, while I was still trying to seduce Jason after a long month’s campaign.

  Jason wasn’t a frolic-in-the-snow type. He would never want to do something with abandon like that. He wasn’t …

  My type. That’s what my mother had said.

  I glanced over at myself in the mirror, in my frumpy dorm robe that I loved so much. Who was I kidding? I picked at the Oreo appliqué on my sleeve and was suddenly overwhelmed. I could have been a poster child for the ‘he’s just not that into you’ movement.

  And the weird thing was, I suddenly didn’t care.

  I crawled into bed, hearing the occasional shriek of Maddie’s laughter drifting up to my window. My eyes fluttered closed, and I thought about the last time I’d had a snowball fight. It had been with Isaac the winter before, during the season’s first big snow. We had started a little snowball war right in the middle of Bergen Street, which had been blanketed in perfect white untouched snow … before we got to it.

  Smiling, I fell asleep.

  Christmas morning I jumped out of bed feeling oddly happy, and optimistic. Nothing had changed, of course, but it was hard to be in a negative frame of mind on Christmas morning, which I still associated with cinnamony smells and long-dreamed-of presents under the tree. And
, in fact, I did smell something cinnamon-like in the air. A good omen.

  I showered, dressed quickly in my jeans from last night and another more dignified sweater, and galloped down the stairs. Voices drifted to me from the kitchen, which cheered me, though I wondered that no one had bothered to plug in the Christmas tree. Maybe they didn’t want to disturb Vlad … although a quick look at the couch revealed Vlad had not slept there. Wasn’t hard to guess where he had slept.

  That Maddie!

  I skipped toward the kitchen. Maddie was at the stove, expertly twirling a spatula through her fingers. At the table sat Mom, flanked on one side by Jason. He smiled at me a little sheepishly, and no wonder. He was wearing his Santa sweater – twelve hours too late – and it looked goofier on him than I imagined it would.

  Strangely, I felt like avoiding his eyes. I wasn’t sure that I had reached any solid conclusions – maybe it would be better if we waited till we got back to New York to decide anything – but I did feel like something had shifted.

  ‘Merry Christmas!’ Mom said, setting off a chime among us all, finishing with exclamations about how neat it was to have a white Christmas. ‘I thought we would wait till Ted came out to open presents,’ Mom continued.

  I tilted my head. ‘Has anyone heard him stirring yet?’

  Mom sighed. ‘No, and I don’t want to wake him, poor thing. This is bound to be a tough day for him. I was thinking maybe we should try to get his cell phone away from him.’

  Poor Ted.

  I went over to Maddie. ‘What are you making?’

  ‘Spicy pancakes,’ she said.

  ‘Edible ones,’ my mother said, with a wink.

  Remembering my failure of yesterday, I couldn’t help recoiling a little. Her choice of breakfast foods felt like a repudiation. But it was Christmas, and so I ignored the chuckles in the kitchen as I poured myself a cup of coffee and scooted into the seat across from Jason. ‘Everybody sleep okay?’

  Mom said she slept just fine, and Maddie just blinked at me as if she hadn’t understood the question.

  ‘I thought I heard a ruckus in the backyard last night,’ I said.

  ‘Oh! That was me.’ Maddie’s face turned pink.

  You and who else, Miss Goody Two-Shoes, I wanted to ask. I loved it when Maddie tried to act all innocent this way. I began calculating how I could get her to reveal Vlad’s whereabouts in front of Mom.

  ‘Look at the snowman she built!’ Mom said proudly, in the same voice she used to point out construction paper creations on her refrigerator when we were kids. ‘It’s a work of art.’

  Naturally. Maddie would not allow herself to build just any old ordinary snowman.

  I pushed my chair back and peered out the patio doors. The first shock I received was that the snowman was ordinary. Perfect, but perfectly traditional. Three big orbs of snow, increasing in size from the head down. Its middle had stones for buttons. An old pipe of Dad’s stuck out where its mouth would be, and a fat stubby carrot stood in place of its nose. Its eyes were buttons and an old Donegal cap from the front hall closet crowned its head. About the most outstanding feature of the snowman – what really made my eyes pop – was the scarf around its neck. It was a long, flowing red-and-blue-striped wool scarf.

  The scarf I had given Jason.

  The one he hadn’t remembered he’d wanted.

  On Maddie’s snowman. Seeing it there felt like a knife twisting in my gut. Especially since seeing it there, and remembering last night, I now realized that it wasn’t Vlad she had been canoodling with.

  Something hitched in my throat, and I stumbled to my feet as if to refill the coffee cup I hadn’t yet taken a sip of.

  Jason and Maddie. While I had been attempting – and failing – to dress for seduction, Maddie had been frolicking in the snow with him. Thank God I hadn’t taken my silk-and-chenille-clad bod down the hall and insinuated myself into his empty bed.

  No wonder he’d looked sheepish!

  Of course, a few hours earlier I had been rolling around in the snow with Isaac, so I didn’t have room to throw stones. But still. Right under my bedroom window! I tried to clear my throat nonchalantly. ‘What happened to Vlad?’

  Maddie flipped a perfectly golden hotcake. ‘He just disappeared last night.’ Her nose scrunched adorably in thought. ‘You know, I’m inclined to think you were right about him, Holly. He was a little odd. My New Year’s resolution is to be more discerning romantically.’

  Sure, let me vet them for you, sis. I downed a gulp of coffee, feeling the Christmasy urge to strangle one of my nearest and dearest. Never before had I brought a guy home, and the one time I did – the first and only time in twenty-eight years – she stole him. It was incredible. Stole him right out from under my nose!

  I looked at Jason. Heartbreakingly handsome Jason. I looked at Maddie. Perky, perfect Maddie.

  God, this was so screwed up. Yes, she had stolen him. But I had tossed her a high lob – the man of her dreams more than mine, made to order for her. People looking at them would think they were the perfect couple. They were. When she had first seen him she had asked if he was my Christmas present to the family. To her, she’d apparently meant. And I guess that’s what he was.

  I remembered something and reached into my jeans for my magic Christmas napkin. Shaking a little, I unfolded it and found Isaac’s cramped science-and-math geek scrawl all over it in ballpoint pen.

  Dear Holly,

  Here’s my Christmas wish for you, selfish soul that I am. I wish you heartbreak. I admit it. I hope you’re a mess this morning, utterly wretched. In a moment of dumb gallantry I sent you off to get your dream man, but I hope you failed. God, I hope so. Because here’s the deal. I’m not gallant at all. I’m terrible. I love you. There. I said (wrote) it. I was going to tell you when I broke up with Helen, but then Jason came along. Last night I thought if I kissed you it would all be clear, but instead you started jawing on about Jason and it just got more confused and now I might have lost you forever. But I do love you, and if it’s not too late … what’re you doin’ New Year’s Eve?

  Yours, Mr Millstein.

  I read it once. Then again.

  I folded it up, half listening to everyone trying to guess how much snow we’d had. Three inches. No, maybe five. I opened my magic napkin and read it again.

  ‘Holly?’ My mom’s forehead was wrinkled with worry. ‘What’s the matter?’

  I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak for a moment. You know that song, ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’? There’s a line that tells the listener to let your heart be light. Well, at that moment, my heart was floating. I looked at Jason and Maddie and I was suddenly happy. Thrilled.

  I felt like Jimmy Stewart after he’d discovered angels exist. Or little Natalie Wood when she’d been driven by her dream house. Or the Grinch after he’d heard the Whos singing on Christmas morning. I felt like whooping. Maybe it was inadvertent, but I had done a good deed. I wanted to do more.

  I thought about my parents. They were beyond my matchmaking abilities right now, I was afraid. But they had shepherded me through plenty of crises in my life. Maybe that’s all I could give them now in return – a little understanding. And a lot of phone time in the months ahead.

  I went to the fridge and got out the $150 champagne I was saving for Jason’s and my big romantic event that wasn’t. ‘This is for you,’ I told Mom. ‘A housewarming gift for your new apartment. Maybe you could take us over there this afternoon?’

  Mom seemed almost teary as she looked at the bottle. ‘Of course – that would be nice.’

  Well, it would be if we managed to avoid your new neighbors. I decided Mom could wait to hear about last night’s hijinks at her place.

  I turned. There was one more thing I could do here. I marched to my brother’s room and pounded on the door. It took him a few moments, but he stumbled to the door, bleary-eyed. He was looking really scruffy – serial killer lite, would probably best describe it. I took his arm
and started tugging him toward the bathroom, where I turned on the shower and then proceeded to slather shaving cream on his face.

  ‘What the hell?’ Some of it got on his mouth and he came fully awake, spitting in the sink between words. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m sending you on a mission,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s Christmas morning, and you’re going to take all of our presents for Schuyler and Amanda over to your in-laws’ house,’ I said, in a voice reserved for giving careful directions. ‘While you are there, you are going to be on your best behavior. And at some point, you are going to seek out a private moment with Melinda, and – get this – you’re going to say that you’re sorry.’

  He stiffened. ‘But I’m not sorry.’

  ‘Yes, Ted, you are. You’ve been sorry for days, but you’re just too belligerent to admit it. Stop letting your ego get in the way of your happiness. Don’t let her get away.’

  He glowered at me.

  Then, slowly, as steam billowed around us, he began to shave.

  I watched him for a moment, making sure he wasn’t just faking me out. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to take the presents over to my in-laws’,’ he mumbled.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And be nice,’ he recited dutifully. ‘And I’m going to seek out a private moment with Melinda.’

  ‘And?’ This was the most important part.

  ‘I’m going to say I’m sorry.’

  ‘Good for you!’ I said, clapping him on the back. ‘Merry Christmas!’

  Shutting the bathroom door, I turned and veered off to the living room and picked up the package I needed. Then I headed back to the kitchen.

  ‘Can I borrow your car keys, Mom?’ I asked as I passed through, already pulling them off the peg by the kitchen phone.

  Mom, looking startled, stared at the package under my arm. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To pay a visit to St Nicholas.’

  Though there was a large banner outside proclaiming the store to be ‘Your Headquarters for Christmas,’ the inside of Valu-Rite drugstore was practically empty. I saw one shopper in the antacid aisle before catching sight of Isaac in one-hour Santaland. He was slumped in a big chair, next to a tree that looked suspiciously like Mom’s, which had some obviously fake wrapped packages beneath it, and some unwrapped gift ideas, as well. There was a boom box, an off-brand Barbie named Krista, and some kind of plastic kiddie car that already had one wheel askew.